Born under a bad sign
by Gosutoraita
Summary: A series of short stories featuring the Batfamily and friends. NOW SHOWING- Dick wakes in a forest with no recollection of how he got there, but when he finds other victims, including a familiar face, he knows they must be there for a reason. With the enemy hot on their trail, Dick must keep the civilians safe, but at what cost?
1. Nightmare

Chapter one: Nightmare

Jason Todd wakes up to a distress call from the Batcave, but when he arrives at the manor, his brothers are acting like a real family and the Batcave is missing?

* * *

There aren't many days in my life that I wake up to the sunshine and twittering birds, but today seems to be an exception to that rule. The tattered curtains flutter in the sharp morning breeze, and for once I seem to have slept the whole night through without waking to nightmares or my hijacked police radio. It's like a dream. I roll off my mattress and shrug on a leather jacket, leaving my mask discarded on the floor. After sniffing some milk and pouring some cereal, I check my cell. No messages, no calls. I didn't expect anything, still, I kinda want to talk to someone. Not that there are many people who would talk to me. Tim hates me, same goes for Damien and Bruce. Oracle only calls me to tell me to stop beating up Dick. Nightwing'd probably talk to me if I called him, but that idiot's got more numbers than a Chinese phone book. He has to change cell every time he pisses off one of his girlfriends, to stop them from calling, or finding out where he lives, depending on what girl it is.

I feel stupid for even thinking of calling someone.

I'm meant to be Red Hood, the badass vigilante who doesn't even listen to Bats. My phone buzzes in my hand, making me drop my spoon into my bowl. I flip it open and check my messages. It's not a message, it's an automated warning directly from the Batcomputer. I've never seen one like it. It doesn't specify anything, it simply says that something is wrong. I slip my phone into my pocket and jump up, leaving my cereal half eaten. I don't even collect my mask on the way out, I just start up my motorcycle and tear down the street, on my way to the manor.

Thinking about it, the warning was probably not anything to worry about. Maybe the Batcomputer got a virus... is that even possible? Or perhaps one of Bruce's brats got sick and he's overreacting. That wouldn't surprise me.

I ponder about what could have happened for the entirety of the half hour journey to the manor, but I decide that I don't care what it is. I shouldn't. Not after the way they all treat me. I pull up next to the gate, and I'm not surprised that it's open. Pity the criminals don't know Batman's true identity. They'd be beating down his door. Now that would be fun to watch. Stowing my bike in a nearby hedge, I jog up to the front door. I reach for the handle, but the door is opened by Alfred. Nothing's wrong. I can't believe it. "Welcome home, master Jason." I'm halfway down the steps when I hear those words meet my ears. I don't know how to react. I really don't. I should be offended, I should turn and bite back viciously, and slam doors, but I don't.

I'm welcome and I'm home, and that's all I've ever wanted.

Still, I frown at the butler as I step through the threshold. He doesn't smile, but he is warm. "So, about the Batcomputer sending me a warning message...?" I ask him nonchalantly.

He chuckles. "Whatever game you are playing, don't think you can fool me. I may be old..."

"What? I'm not trying to fool anybody."

"Then I assume the 'Batcomputer' is a commodity of your own creation? Aren't you a little old to play make-believe?" Alfred wanders into the kitchen to make tea, presumably to satisfy his masters addiction.

"What the hell are you on about? Bruce created the Batcomputer. And I'm not playing 'make-believe'." I follow him closely, watching him drain the tea from the leaves.

"Then you should know that there is no such thing as a 'Batcomputer' I hope." He places the china onto a tray and fills a cup with tea.

"Right." I reply. Something definitely isn't right. Either this is all a prank executed by the whole family, which is unlikely that they could refrain from killing each other long enough to set this up, or something is wrong.

If Alfred doesn't believe there is a Batcomputer, then could it be... I find myself in the main study, ignoring Alfred's questions as he follows me. I set the time on the old granfather clock to be 10:47. Bruce created this entrance to the Batcave, and the passcode is the exact time when his parents were murdered. I wait for the panel to slide back. It doesn't. I slam the clock, but only succeed in cracking the glass slightly.

"What the..."

"Is everything okay, master Jason?" Alfred asks distantly, not wanting to get involved.

"Yeah..." I back up, hitting the desk. "Everything is fine." I take it back. Something isn't wrong. Everything is wrong.

Alfred picks up his tea tray and heads out, presumably to deliver it to Bruce. I follow him. I need to talk to Bruce. Surely the guy knows something about what's going on. The old butler arrives in a lounge near the back of the manor, in a pleasantly warm conservatory. He places the tray down and hands the tea over to Bruce. Surprisingly, all the bat brats are here, even Dick. Damian and Tim sit on the floor, their eyes glued to a video game, their hands busy tapping away at controllers. Damian would never play video games, especially not with Tim, whom he considered a peasant. They seemed to be getting along swimmingly. More weird.

Bruce and Dick were sitting across from each other, deep in civilized conversation. I won't even bother pointing out what's wrong with that scene.

"Hello, Jason." Bruce smiles at me.

I smile back, playing along. "And how are you all enjoying your time off work?" Bruce doesn't get the hint.

"It's great, I haven't had to go to board meetings all week."

"Yes, but what about your other work. You know, your night occupation?"

He just looks at me, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"Ugh, nothing. Sorry." I find myself sitting heavily next to Bruce. He's just the same as Alfred. I'm stuck in a world where Batman doesn't exist. Brilliant!

"We were about to discuss what you're going to do about your education. You're almost eighteen now. Why don't you try university, I know it's a bit late, but they'll be sure to let you in with your grades." Bruce looks over at Dick briefly. "Just don't join the police force, in Blüdhaven of all places, like your brother did."

Dick doesn't even bite back at his comment, and I'm still reveling over the fact that in this world, I can go to university. I can be normal.

Tim and Damian chose this moment to pause their game and sit with us, Damian sitting in between me and Bruce, and Tim sprawling next to Dick, kicking his brother over to make more room for himself. The eldest scooted over with no complaint.

"Was that good grades and Jason in the same sentence?" Damian asked sarcastically.

"Believe it, kid. Jason's got awesome grades. Not as good as me, of course. Or Dick." Tim mutters.

"I have awesome grades..." I test the notion out loud. I hadn't gone to school for that long, and I didn't go to class most of the time anyway. I didn't even go to my finals.

"No need to blow your own trumpet, Jay." Dick chuckles, his eyes shining with unrestrained pride. I can't even remember a time when me and Dick got along. We had fights, we almost killed each other, then we didn't see each other for months after. That's how it always had been.

Damian scowls up at me, punching me on the arm."Yeah, Todd, don't think you are superior to me because you're not. I will always be the perfection of this family, even if it means getting better grades than the likes of you."

Dick jumps up suddenly. "Right, that's it!"

Here we go. Here are the true colors of Dick Grayson.

Instead of beating up his younger brother, Dick picks Damian up and flips him upside down, holding him by an ankle.

Shrieks of laughter fill the room. "Grayson!" Damian yells between gasps. "Let me down!"

"Not until you admit you are just the same as the rest of us." Dick taunts, holding his little brother further off the floor. Bruce looks on in embarrassment, sipping his tea and looking the other way. Tim cheers Dick on, and I sit there, stunned.

I slip out of my leather jacket and join in. "Grayson, if you don't put down the innocent child, I will have no choice but to restrain you!" I say, and I immediately feel wrong for joining in. This isn't me.

"Never!" Dick holds Damian away from me, the kid gasping from too much upside down laughter. I tumble into Dick, falling to the floor. Dick laughs, shocked, and I rescue Damian from his clutches. I push Dick over and sit on his hands to stop him from moving.

I lean my face on my hand, and rest my elbow on my knee, trying to look casual as Dick tries to get up. "I'm twenty three, way too old to be putting up with you lot!" He yells jokingly.

"I am wise beyond my years, you may as well be five compared to my intellect." Damian comments, after regaining his dignity.

"Sure." He agrees, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Alfred reenters the room and gives me a sidelong look. "If you ever chose to get off your brother, dinner is ready."

"Thanks Alfred. Let's continue that University talk after dinner." Bruce says, getting up and leading everyone into the dining room.

I sit next to Dick on one side, while we face Tim and Damian on the other. Bruce sits at the head of the table as he always does. After that, everything became a blur. We ate, and talked, and when the moon appeared we went to bed. I discover my old room is just as I had left it, and I get changed into nightclothes and sit on my bed. It's been such a long time since I've felt this fulfilled. I don't even care that no one remembers Batman, or Robin or Nightwing. I'm glad, even.

"Goodnight, Jason." I look up and see Bruce standing in the doorway.

"Sorry?"

"I said goodnight." He repeats, sounding slightly annoyed, but not unkind.

"Oh. Night." I reply, still shocked at everything that has happened today. To think, I came here on a whim, and I was welcomed back with open arms. Bruce smiles and closes the door, and I hear his footsteps up the hall, presumably stopping at the next door to say goodnight.

I settle into bed, and stretch out comfortably. Even If I can't kill another evil person, even if I have to go to university, I can live with it all as payment for this. My eyes slide shut and I fall into dreamless sleep.

_"Infamous serial killer by the name of Adam Andrews has been spotted by Gotham's amusement mile. Extremely dangerous. Apprehend suspect ASAP._" The crackling voice comes over on the police radio, rousing me from a deep sleep. It is still night time outside. There is a cool breeze. I'm not in my room at Wayne Manor. My heart drops n my stomach.

It cant've all been... I jump up and grab my phone, dialing Bruce's number that I stole from Dick's hijacked tech.

The conversation went as follows:

"Yes?"

"Bruce?"

"Jason?"

"Did I visit you yesterday?"

"Visit?" he scoffs.

"Yes, visit."

"I don't know where you are, Jason, but when I find you, I am turning you into the GCPD. You belong in Arkham for what you've done."

Then the line went dead. My whole brilliant day of being happy, and belonging to a family was all a lie. It was all something made in my head to pass the time while I slept. Dangled in front of me was the life I could have lead, and my waking up snatched it away. It was all just a dream. No. Not a dream.

A nightmare.


	2. Alias (part one)

Chapter two: Alias (part one)

An abusive couple is found dead in their apartment, and BPD's Dick Grayson and partner Amy Rohrbach are assigned the case. Dick knows who killed them, but is he willing to rat out his own brother?

* * *

**Dick's POV**

"I can't believe it! I just can't!" Amy throws her arms up in exasperation.

"What?" I ask, not wanting to set her off. When Amy gets like this, it's best to just let her vent, rather than trying to contribute too much to the subject. In this case, it's the 'audacity' of that 'bastard' Chief Redhorn. In short, he sent us out to investigate a noise complaint, while his honest, hardworking force of cops sit around and watch the latest baseball game, sipping beers.

Amy continues, resuming her rant. "I mean, if he's gonna send us out, at least send us on something worthwhile, but a noise complaint?"

I reach out to knock on the door to apartment number 205, but I also claimed the key from the receptionist as a precaution, just in case they don't open up. I knock lightly on the door three times.

"Hello?" I start uncertainly. "Anyone home?" I bang my fist on the door.

"Let me do it, rookie." She pushes past and kicks with all her might, effectively separating the door from it's frame.

"That works too." I mutter, climbing over the door. It isn't protocol to kick in doors when you have the key, but I guess that isn't Amy's number one concern right now.

The apartment inside is dank and poorly lit, a smell of damp walls and expired food clings to the air, making it seem heavier. Burnt out cigarette butts are discarded at random everywhere, but luckily, they tie in beautifully with the color scheme of questionable stains and discolored carpets. I push further into the apartment, making my way to a living room. There is no TV and only one small couch. More cigarette butts, and smashed glass. Some of the glass belongs in a frame, which I pick up. The photograph is relatively new, but tattered. It shows four smiling faces, a man and a woman, the mother and father presumably, and two kids, twin girls by the looks of it.

"So, where are they now?" Amy asks, appearing behind me.

"No idea. Have you checked the bedroom?" She shakes her head.

"I'll go and ask around the neighbors, to find out what sort of people they are. This isn't exactly a child friendly environment." I say, holding up the photo.

"This is ridiculous. You're taking this seriously?" Her anger apparently makes her blind to the seriousness of the case. We really need to find where those kids are now.

"I'm just trying to get the job done." I mutter through my teeth.

She shakes her head, and makes her way into the bedroom. I'm hardly out of the door when I hear her call me back.

"Grayson? You may want to look at this." I let go of the apartment door handle, and jog into the bedroom. Amy's voice sounds urgent.

Two steps in and I see it. The bodies of the same man and woman in the picture are splayed out over the white sheets, a halo of blood shining behind them. The weapon is still here. A desert eagle pistol. My initial reaction is not surprise. I've seen my share of dead bodies. Amy doesn't seem too freaked either. She's probably seen many cases like this, especially as she works in Blüdhaven.

She strides towards the bodies and starts to dial the police station for some backup. "That blood is fresh, still warm. The killer may still be around and we need to set up a crime scene for the feds." She says pointedly, pressing the dial button.

"I'll check around for the killer, you stay here and set up the crime scene." I suggest. She nods, before reporting the situation to a fellow officer.

I soon find myself outside the apartment. I suppose searching around the apartment is my best bet. Maybe the killer is still around, and if not, they may have left something. Plus, the kids from the picture are missing, so they would be witnesses, if they still live in the home.

A window at the end of the hall hangs wide open, leading onto the fire escape. Bingo.

I step through, and look up. I see a man, on a couple of flights up, leading the two girls with him.

"Stop!" I yell, running up after him. Funnily enough, the man does turns to look at me, though I can't see his face because it is covered by a red mask.

"Jason?" He takes off his mask, revealing the face of my younger brother.

"Dick?" The girls squirm, gripping onto his hands. They don't look older than seven or eight.

"Let them go, Jason." I demand, wrapping my fingers around my gun, and steadying the sights, aiming for his left leg.

"You don't understand. The parents were abusing them! I'm taking them away from here." He justifies, his eyes wild.

"Oh, and you just had to kill them, didn't you?" I spit venomously, my finger squeezing the trigger. "Haven't we seen enough of this?" I ask him, my voice almost breaking. We've both had similar pasts. Maybe the twins' parents weren't the best, but they were still parents. Both me and Jason know what it's like to lose them.

"They were terrible people." Jason mutters, staring at me with pleading eyes. "Please, just let me go, I can get them to a relative or a home." He's my brother now, not red hood. He's pleading with me as a brother.

"No." I start slowly, staring back accusingly. "Just because someone is bad, that doesn't mean you can kill them. No matter how bad."

"You're just like him. I always knew you were his golden boy." He says, in a low but dangerous voice.

"If being like Bruce means I'm not a killer like you, then so be it."

"You little-" "

I don't trust you with their lives. Let them go." I hold the gun tighter.

"No."

I shoot, but Jason jumps backwards. He backs into the fire escape ladder, helping them up first, before going up himself. I keep aiming the gun at him, but I can't shoot and he knows it. There's too much of a risk that I'd shoot the girls on accident.

He throws down a grenade, and I only manage to crash through the open window and cover my head before it blows the fire escape apart.

"Dammit!" I jump up, and sprint into the apartment.

"What is it, Dick? Did you find anything?" Amy asks.

"Yeah. Stay here, I know where he's going." I murmur, not really talking to Amy.

"Where who's going?" I'm already calling the elevator. I step in, and press the button to make the doors close. "Dick!" She yells after me.

The doors slam shut and the elevator shoots down to the reception. He's gone too far this time. I'm going to bring him in.

Jason deserves to be in a cell in Blackgate prison, and I'll be glad I'm the one to put him there.


	3. Alias (part two)

Chapter three- Alias part 2

* * *

After hours of searching much of Blüdhaven, Dick donned his Nightwing suit to explore the city under the cover of darkness. When finding a Jason, one had to think like a Jason, and the only thing on Jason's mind right now would be to take his anger out on someone. That someone was most likely to be one of the numerous Robin's, and so Dick was not at all surprised when he got a call from an out-of-town Batman for backup for Damian.

Damian may have been trained from a young age to be an assassin, he hadn't been trained to deal with Jason. The vigilante didn't doubt Damian's abilities, but he doubted the ten year old would be able to hold his own against Jason for too long.

That's how Nightwing found himself gliding through the cool night air, and wishing he had a cowl on his suit when it started raining. His indestructible mop of gypsie hair was many things, but waterproofing was not among its abilities.

When Dick crashed through a large, expensive looking window near the rear of Wayne Manor, he couldn't help smiling for letting Bruce know just how much he appreciated having to rescue his murderous damsel in distress, otherwise known as Damian.

"Come here you little...Tell me where Bruce is!" He heard Jason yell from the first floor landing.

"Get out, you impertinent oaf!" He heard the disgruntled answer from the youngest Robin.

Dick shot out a grapple to the chandelier above him, and swung over the banister, landing neatly in between Jason and Damian. The latter was rubbing his eyes and still in his pajamas.

"Dick?"

"Aw, Jay, did you wake Damian from his beauty sleep? He's trained in the art of _killing, _you know?" He said, smiling cheerily.

"Seriously? You again? Haven't I seen enough of you today?" Jason growled, like a lion roused from a deep sleep.

"Actually..." He briefly glanced down to his watch. "It's past midnight, which means you've wasted too much of my time." Dick dropped down and swung his leg round in an effort to knock Jason over, but he dodged backwards.

"I don't need your protection, Grayson!" Damian growled in voice that was too high pitched to be taken seriously.

Dick didn't answer as he landed a hit on Jason and managed to pin him to the wall.

His face turned serious. "Where did you take the twin girls that were with you earlier?"

"I sent them to some relatives. Why can't you just leave it alone?" Jason replied, slipping from Dick's grip and sliding under him.

"I don't know, maybe because I'm tired of finding dead parents?" He muttered bitterly, feeling a slight sense of accomplishment when Jason's face contorted briefly to grief.

"They were horrible parents, I did those kids a favor." He yelled, barreling into his older brother and knocking him back onto the floor.

As Jason slowly approached, Dick's leg shot out and swept Jason off his feet. The younger vigilante's head hit the tiled floor with a painful crack.

"I don't care who you did a favor, you could've just taken them in. The police have plenty of room in Blackgate and Arkham for people like them." He held out a hand for Jason to take. "Now, that cell will be yours instead." He said, grabbing Jason's hand and securing handcuffs to him.

"You little-" Jason's sentence was cut off by a sharp jab to a pressure point in his neck, effectively knocking him out.

"Should I call the police, or Bruce?" Damian asked sleepily, clearly wanting to get back to bed.

"Aren't you meant to be making rounds?"

"Bruce is away, tell him nothing of this. I too must sleep." He said, opening the door to his room and slamming it after him.

"Fine. I don't need help or anything."

"Grayson!?" He heard from the entry hall. Amy's voice.

_Crap, what the hell is she doing here? Not to mention, how did she know... ah. Tracker on the radio. Should've known. _

Of course, his partner had tracked him to the Manor after he had run away from her earlier.

Dick hastily took off his suit, under which was his BPD uniform.

"Up here!"

He waited until she had made her way up the stairs to him. Jason was slumped unconscious against the wall.

"Oh. Is this who you thought the killer was?" She asked uneasily.

"Yeah. Let's take him in." Dick turned and picked up his younger brother, not before sneaking a note into his pocket.

* * *

Jason's POV

Jason woke groggily in a cramped cell with two bunk beds. He hoped they were unoccupied. He rolled over, away from the light outside the bars. It was hurting his head. He presumed Dick had taken him in. As he rolled, he heard a crumple in his pocket. He felt around and found a note, from Dick.

He read it in the dim light:

_Hi, you probably hate me now, but don't be so quick to judge. _

_I sold you out so Batman didn't kill me etc, etc. _

_Hey, at least I got you a room with a view!_

_Lots of love_

_Richard_

"Man, I hate him right now." He got up slowly and held his head. The pain was almost unbearable. Luckily, there were no other prisoners accompanying him in his small cell space. "Room with a view?"

Jason looked around, but there was nothing but a large poster of the beach on the wall, presumably left by the last resident of the cell.

But a beach is a view, and what Dick had said was...

He pulled back the corner and laughed out loud at what he saw. Obscured by the poster was a giant hole in the wall, leading directly onto the next prison block's roof.

"This is in no way a consolation prize, I'll be coming for you." He muttered, even though his older brother was not there to hear his musings.


	4. Bloodlines

Chapter 4 - Bloodlines

Damian won't come out of his room and Dick sends Tim to see what's wrong.

* * *

Tim's POV

He had only come to the manor for the fact that Dick was visiting for a couple of days since Batman needed help busting a drugs ring, who had also been suspected of stealing chemicals from Wayne Industries. Dangerous chemicals. Although Bruce needed Nightwing's backup, as well as Red Robin and Robin's, since it was quite a dangerous operation, Robin wouldn't be coming.

Not since he'd locked himself in his room and absolutely refused to leave. Not even for food.

Alfred had taken to leaving a tray of dinner outside his room and leaving it, only reassured when he saw that it had been taken and replaced, only minus the food.

Tim thought it was stupid. Damian was the sort of kid that made everyone else around him want to lock themselves in their rooms and not talk to anyone for days, not vice versa. Something must've gotten under the ex-assassins skin, but what? He seemed so angry with everyone all the time, so perhaps Bruce had finally put him in his place.

"Hey Timbo! How's it going?" He heard the warm voice of his eldest brother echo through the entrance hall as he made his way downstairs. Tim saw straight through his brothers cheery facade, it was clear from his anger blushed face that he'd probably just engaged in a full blown screaming match with Bruce.

"Dick!" He grinned widely, running at his brother with open arms and enveloping him in a tight hug. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Yeah," He mumbled into Tim's hair. "Sorry, it's just-"

"Bruce."

He withdrew from the hug and held onto Tim's shoulders, continuing in a cheery voice. "He's a pigheaded idiot and I want to break his face."

"Figures." Tim laughed.

"Oh, you could try, but I doubt you'd get very far." Bruce appeared behind them, cracking his knuckles for effect.

Dick snorted. "Speak of the devil."

"I think 'devil' may be an understatement."

"How about the manifestation of all things evil?" Dick suggested, hiding his mouth behind a hand.

"No, I think that's saved for his son."

"Are you quite finished?" Bruce demanded, his eyebrows twitching in annoyance.

"Sure, how can I help you Bruce?" Dick asked, a sarcastic smile on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye.

Bruce rolled his eyes, but filled them in on the mission. "So all _you_ have to do is cause a distraction while Tim searches for the chemicals and I find the leader, okay?"

Dick put a hand on his hip mockingly. "So all I have to do is flutter my eyelashes? I can do that." His expression turned serious. "What about Damian? Why can't he go with you?"

Bruce opened his mouth to explain, but Tim interrupted, "He won't come out of his room."

"Have you talked to him?"

"...no" Bruce admitted.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Tim, could you?"

Tim's jaw dropped. Was Dick serious? He was the least likely to pull the demon spawn out of his depression, the more likely thing to happen would be that they'd kill each other in there.

"Why can't you do it?"

Dick looked over at Bruce with an accusing glare. "Me and Bruce have some things to catch up on. Besides, you two would do well to get to know each other more. You _are_ brothers."

"But Dick! You do the comforting, I do the science." Tim protested pathetically.

He seriously didn't want to pop in for a chat with his murderous younger brother at the best of times, but when aforementioned brother was pissed? No way, not at the risk of his life, no understatement.

"No buts, get up there, maybe you can coax him out." Dick ordered, pointing up the stairs.

Tim turned on his heel and stomped up the stairs.

Damian really was the last person he'd come to the manor to see, he didn't even plan on talking to his younger brother.

Tim was muttering expletives when he tripped over the dinner tray outside Damian's room. He kicked it to the side and knocked on the door carelessly.

"Father, I've told you that-"

"Damian, it's me."

Damian's voice dripped with resentment. "Drake."

"Yup, Drake. Anyway, do you fancy coming out and joining us on the mission tonight?" Tim asked nonchalantly, swallowing a '_you little brat'_ that he wanted to finish with.

"...no."

Tim smiled. "Okay, good talk." He turned and started to walk away.

"Drake." Damian called him back.

"What is it?" He snapped. He'd hoped to nip this conversation at the bud before it continued into an argument.

"Could we talk?" Damian sounded uncertain, and maybe even... Did Damian Wayne sound scared?

Tim sighed. Maybe it would be interesting to hear what the devil had to say, perhaps he even had feelings... "Could I come in then?"

Damian had already opened the door, and was standing in the doorframe. For once, the arrogant, judging frown that usually adorned his brow was missing, replaced instead with a neutral look of shock, as if he couldn't believe something.

Tim came in and shut the door behind him. "There." He found himself saying softly, "Now it's private. You can tell me anything."

Damian went a shade of red and sat down on the edge of his bed. "I can tell you as much or as little as I want, Drake." He said sharply, but clearly halfheartedly.

"What's gotten you so shaken up, Dami?"

Damian's expression flickered with annoyance, but he didn't say anything about Tim calling him by Dick's nickname. "As if I would tell you."

"Why else would you ask me to talk to you?"

"I didn't ask you for anything."

"Damian." Tim leaned in slightly and said seriously, "Everything that you say to me stays private."

Damian couldn't seem to refrain himself from being slightly childish, if only for a split second. "Promise?"

Tim nodded in reiteration.

"I saw mother in Gotham."

Tim's neutral expression faltered into a frown. Damian's mother never came to Gotham, at least, he didn't think she did. Damian hardly talked about her, and if he did it was only to reference to his pure bloodline.

When Tim didn't reply, Damian continued, "She asked me if I wanted to come back to live with my grandfather again."

What? Tim thought the whole reason that Damian was with Bruce was because Talia thought her son would do better with his father.

"And do you?" He asked, biting back a load of other questions that could come off the wrong way. He wouldn't usually be so careful about his brothers feelings, but his brother wasn't usually this upset.

Damian looked up at Tim with a confused frown, "I don't know. Don't you want me to go? You've never liked me."

"Of course I like you!" Tim did, he really did, it was just that Damian could be so volatile sometimes, only managed in small doses.

"You don't seem like it..."

Tim had never seen the boy so unconfident with himself.

"Mother also said that if I chose not to come back, she'd have no choice but to _replace _me." He said, his voice cracking at 'replace' as if the word itself was hard to accept.

Damian's mother wanted to replace him? That was a harsh thing to tell a young boy, especially a proud boy like Damian. Tim had no idea Damian's mother had been so harsh on him, and he's had to put up with ten years of her. No wonder he chose to live with his father in the first place.

"That's horrible. But how would she replace you?"

"She took samples of my DNA at the age of five and ten, and had them stored along with father's DNA." He replied, not seeming to realize that what his mother had done was wrong.

"So she can clone you. Creepy."

"It isn't 'creepy'. It's insurance in case I didn't do what she wanted." He snapped back, seemingly offended.

"How can you hold such a high opinion of her? She's been nothing but terrible to you."

Damian nodded, rather than arguing. "I know." He sullenly affirmed.

"So, do you want to stay?"

His younger brother nodded slowly, another blush creeping up his face. "If that would be okay."

"Yes." Tim got up to leave, opening the door to the hallway.

"Drake?"

He turned back, to see Damian look down, not meeting his eyes. "Thank you."

Tim smiled and closed the door, seeing that the dinner tray was gone. Alfred must've taken it, he was a demon when it came to cleaning. He made his way down the stairs, to hear Bruce and Dick yelling at each other in the kitchen. He walked in casually, leaning against the doorframe with a proud smirk adorning his face.

It took Bruce and Dick a couple of seconds to realise that he was standing there and stopped arguing.

"What's up?" Dick was the first to ask, though he kept glaring at Bruce.

"Damian's gonna be joining us tonight after all."

* * *

**Boom! Any ideas welcomed, reviews would be cool too. **


	5. Brothers

Chapter 5 - Brothers

Damian is sent by Barbara to investigate a distress call, but finds more than he'd bargained for. A very injured Jason Todd.

* * *

**Damian's POV**

"Sorry, Bruce and Tim are in the middle of something right now. I wouldn't usually ask, but it's kind of important." Oracle was saying through Damian's earpiece.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked, veering away from where his father and Drake had asked him to go originally. Barbara was right, she wouldn't usually ask, which was what made Damian listen in the first place.

"Well, I got a distress call, directly to my computers. The only people who would be able to access them is you, Bruce, Tim and Dick. Well, you were just fighting with Bruce and Tim, and I just called Dick. He said he hadn't sent the call." She said flatly, "I don't know who else it could be."

Damian snorted. "Useless."

"Thanks for that, lil' D."

"Don't call me that."

Oracle severed the line as she chuckled. It was way too easy to provoke Damian.

The newest robin looked at the coordinates that Oracle had sent him and let himself drop from the roof of the bank, landing with a roll onto the next roof.

He caught a window frame and lowered himself onto a street lamp, looking out over the street. He definitely didn't have the acrobatics skills that Grayson had, after all, an assassin didn't need to know how to do a quadruple aerial somersault over lions to be successful, but Damian was still jealous of Grayson's skills. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Damian landed softly on his feet opposite a intimidating high rise. It didn't look as if it was home to particularly wealthy people. Quite the opposite.

Washing lines crisscrossed between windows with raggedy clothes hanging off them like makeshift scarecrows. The windows were grubby, and those that weren't boarded up had a dim light shining through. Obviously people lived here still, even though this was an abandoned part of town.

Damian sighed. This wasn't the sort of building he wanted to find himself in, especially not in response to a distress call. The ex-assassin had an idea of who it could be, given the location.

Still, he steeled himself and shot a grapple up to the second floor. Although he didn't know the exact room, he knew that it was somewhere on that level.

Damian dropped neatly into an open window, letting his hands take the brunt of the landing force, before pushing himself onto his feet. He sighed and started to look around when he heard a groan. He spun and saw a familiar flash of red and black in a heap near the elevator. One bloody hand was clamped white knuckled over a stab wound on his abdomen, while the other was flat on the floor, as if trying to hold onto something. His face was slightly contorted in pain, and although his eyes were hidden behind a red eye mask, Damian gambled that his pupils were probably dilated with the blood he'd lost. Jason Todd.

He muttered something that sounded like, "This guy?" And tried to crawl away to lean on the wall.

"-Tt- You're bleeding, Todd." Damian said helpfully.

"Really? Huh. Hadn't noticed." Todd murmured, expletives leaking out with the sarcastic comment. For Jason, sarcasm and swearing went hand in hand, especially when he was in pain.

Damian didn't seem to understand how swearing could help alleviate pain, and so tutted again and started to walk away.

"Where the hell are you going?" Jason demanded, looking on with horror. With all the blood he'd lost already, Damian leaving him would be signing him over to death.

"I don't need to help you, in fact, it'd probably be frowned upon if I did."

Damian may as well have spat on him.

"Thanks for the confidence booster, little brother, but I kind of need immediate medical attention here." Jason groaned through his teeth. His hands started to shake, blood leaking through the cracks in his fingers.

"You aren't my brother, filth."

Jason smiled lightly. He didn't know if it was because of he pain, or the blood loss or the numerous other ailments that came as a package deal with getting stabbed in the gut, but he was reminded of himself as he looked at Damian's judging gaze.

"You know, when Bruce first adopted me, I never thought of Dick as my brother." He started, gritting his teeth and holding his wound. "I thought that we weren't related in any way, so what gave him the right to call me his brother?"

Damian looked vaguely irritated, but turned back around and peered down at him with a morbid curiosity. The kid was so attention deprived he was willing to listen to what his pain induced hallucinating brother wanted to say.

"But Dick always called me his brother, and even if I tried to make him call me by my name, he would smile that annoying smile that trumps all other arguments and shake his head. I hated that."

Damian nodded. "He calls me 'lil D' and 'Dami'. Does he not understand that I have a given name?" He seemed to have gotten into the conversation at this point. "He isn't related to me, and he isn't my friend, so why does he treat me so while I treat him as an underling as I should?"

Jason laughed, a strained sound, but a laugh nonetheless. They'd found common ground! "And then there's the orders and the stupid moral code. Don't do this, you can't kill!" He said.

Damian sniffed in affirmation, "Killing is far more efficient, after all, there will be one less criminal on the street. Permanently."

Jason smiled, although his eyebrows twitched in pain. Damian on the other hand seemed to have completely glazed over the fact that Jason was bleeding to death all over the floor. At least he hadn't left him, but Jason wouldn't have been surprised if he did, he wouldn't have even been surprised if Damian had made the final blow to kill him. Bruce's hatred for Jason seemed to have genetically passed onto Damian, although the kid also appeared to like to break the rules once in a while. Jason figured he could use this to his advantage.

"So, d'ya think you could help a brother out...?"

Damian's lip trembled in annoyance, and he opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but appeared to think against it. He instead nodded hesitantly, reaching to tap his comms unit. His finger paused above the button and he looked helplessly at Jason.

"What is it now?" He asked, visibly irritated now, face shining with sweat from overexertion.

"I...I don't know who to call. I don't think anyone in their right mind would help you."

Jason rolled his eyes. Of course they wouldn't, he was surprised Damian was offering to help him in the first place, although he seemed to have realised that Jason was more like him than he'd initially thought.

"...What about Dick?"Jason asked weakly, the words clawing their way out desperately to be heard.

"He may help, but he may also ridicule me, plus he will definitely tell father what has happened."

Jason growled in frustration, ripping his red eye mask from his face. "Then take me to a hospital. No one knows me as Jason Todd around here anyway."

Damian looked torn suddenly. "I still don't know if I should help you."

"Oh come _on._" The elder boys face scrunched in annoyance. "Haven't we been through this already?"

"Yes, I believe we have. Someone trusts you too much, then you turn and stab them in the back. I've seen it happen with you before." Damian spat.

"Right. But I really can't do anything this time. I'm bleeding to death here, not exactly in the position to be back stabbing."

Damian seemed to scan over him for a moment, as if making sure that he was telling the truth. "I suppose you can't. But still, how do you propose I get you to hospital?"

At this point, Jason was rolling his eyes. Any more stalling and he'd be dead. "Just call an ambulance, would you?" He uttered his last words before passing out completely from blood loss.

"Fine, Todd." Damian tapped his comms unit and typed rapidly into the keyboard on his wrist, connecting to the nearest hospital, Gotham Central. "Yes, I've found a _civilian _brutally injured in the abandoned district. I need an ambulance sent to this location immediately." He sent the coordinates over to them, before hanging up and turning back to Todd. "You're much more trouble than you're worth." He muttered, before turning away, Arabian curses slipping from his tongue.

* * *

ONE WEEK LATER

"Sorry to disturb, the young man is here to visit you again." A nurse held the door open to Jason's hospital room. The tired man looked up and nodded slowly, trying to get into a more upright position in an attempt to look less pitiful, belayed only by the dark circles that shadowed his eyes and his unkempt hair.

The nurse looked down at the young man in question, earning a sneer, before closing the door and rushing hurriedly down the corridor.

"Wow, two minutes and you've already managed to clear the room." Jason chuckled softly, wincing as his stitches pulled at the irritated skin.

"Save it Todd." Damian mumbled, not half as confident as he should have been.

"Hey, I'm not the one that almost got banned from the hospital just because of your death glare."

Damian smiled smugly, a comeback clearly on its way, "And I'm not the one in hospital, hooked up to half a dozen machines because you can't hold your own against common thugs."

"This scene is just adorable."

Jason and Damian both turned towards the speaker, thought they knew only three people could sneak up on them like that, and only one out of three would ever visit Jason.

"Grayson." Damian spoke the word like it was cursed, dragging the word out in dread.

"Dami!" Dick smiled, stepping gracefully through the window as if he was simply walking through a door. "...Jason."

"Hey Dick." Jason greeted casually. He really was too exhausted for a verbal fight and a physical fight was entirely out of the question.

Luckily, Dick's smile only widened at his younger brothers friendliness. "So, I checked through the visitors log. I hear Dami has been visiting almost everyday. I always did think you two had a lot in common."

Damian shook his head. "I don't agree. I find it despicable that he uses guns. Swords are a much more suitable weapon when fighting with pride."

Jason begged to differ. "Guns are easier." He said shrugging.

"It doesn't matter if they're easier. Swords feel right to me." Damian snapped.

"Aaaand we're back to arguing." Jason said, an eyebrow raised in arrogance.

Dick smiled in nostalgia. "You're truly brothers, then. I knew you two would get on eventually!" He ruffled Damian's hair fondly, gaining a piercing glare.

Jason however, had a shell shocked look on his face, "Brothers...?"

Damian swallowed his pride and avoided Jason's gaze as he said, "Yes, Todd. Brothers."

* * *

**So, I don't really know what colour eyes Damian has... Is it blue or green, because Son of Batman (the animated movie) portrays him with green eyes, then a load of fic's say that he has blue eyes? **

**Oh, and if you want to, you could review! Reviews really make a persons day :) (Sorry, long-ish authors note)**


	6. I'll be there for you

Chapter six - I'll be there for you

After a heated argument with Bruce, Damian decides he wants to live with Dick in Blüdhaven.

* * *

**Damian's POV**

Damian's eyebrow twitched impatiently, he still believed his father didn't quite understand what it was he was getting at, but he was so distracted with being angry that he just wouldn't listen. "Father, I know that the Joker was too much for Grayson, Todd and Drake," He listed each Robin off on his fingers, each name weakening his confidence, "But I'm more advanced than any of them had been at my age. He wouldn't be a problem."

Bruce at this point was slamming doors and throwing extremely expensive gadgets around like they weren't completely irreplaceable. "I don't care what you think, it's what I know that matters!"

"You're being unreasonable. You know I'm nothing like the others. They were weak, and inexperienced."

"Don't you dare degrade them like that." Bruce growled.

"Even Todd?"

He found himself saying, "Especially him."

Damian frowned, but continued nonetheless. "It's inconsequential to me what you think of your numerous partners. What is of greater concern is why you think I'm not capable of fighting the Joker."

Bruce adopted a guarded expression, one he often used when reining in his anger so as not to blow up in front of a ten year old. "You're not ready, and I don't have to risk it. I can just ask someone else to come with me."

Damian's eyes narrowed to accusing slits. "Mother would've let me go." He said, sounding for all the world like a teenage girl complaining about a concert.

"Your mother would've let you die. She had your DNA stored, she could've just made a new son." Bruce spat, regretting it as soon as he'd said it.

Shock flashed across Damian's sharp features, but he didn't react as Bruce imagined he may have. "Well, I suppose we've both had bad parentage."

He'd hit a nerve in Bruce and he knew it. In fact, he seemed proud of it. It was the smug grin that Damian wore that made Bruce grip his son at the lapels and stare menacingly into those blue eyes that looked so much like his own.

"Listen here, my parents were nothing like your mother! They cared about me, which is more than I can say for you." Bruce knew the incoming words were too far, but they slipped out anyway, "You were only created because Ra's couldn't persuade me to inherit his legacy. You're meaningless to them." He continued in a dangerously low voice. "If you want to get yourself killed, go ahead. I won't stop you."

Damian's usually venomous expression fell worryingly flat, emotionless, as he pulled himself away from Bruce's vice grip and made his way slowly up the stairs to the manor.

* * *

**Dick's POV**

Dick was flipping through TV channels and stuffing cold takeout pizza in his mouth when he heard a crash in the kitchen. His heart leapt into his throat, and he almost fell off the coach. "As a twenty three year old man, my heart should not be hurting this much." He remarked, as if there wasn't a home invader in his kitchen. "I think I just had a panic attack." He put a palm over his chest, to calm his rocketing heartbeat.

"As much as this is cliché, is anyone there?" He called out into the kitchen, brandishing his empty pizza box as if it was a deadly weapon.

"Grayson." Damian regarded his eldest adoptive brother from the kitchen work surface, swinging his legs, which would've looked childlike if not for his Robin uniform.

Dick lowered the pizza box shield and set it down sheepishly on the counter. "And what are you doing visiting me at this ungodly hour?"

Damian's gaze narrowed, "You weren't sleeping, were you?"

"Well, no, but-"

Before Dick could stop him, Damian was in the living room staring at what he had been watching. "Friends?" He raised an eyebrow as the opening theme blared from the TV.

"It's good, okay?" Dick said defensively, grabbing the remote and switching off the program.

Damian regarded the mess that was his living room, raising his eyebrows at the alarmingly large build up of various takeaway remains littering his coffee table. Blankets and pillows littered the couch, presumably so that Nightwing could get home after patrol and sleep there. Dick himself wasn't much better, as he wore a blue shirt with numerous pizza stains, accompanied by a pair of sweat pants two sizes too big, and a pair of mismatched holey socks.

"Your appearance is akin to that of a homeless person." Damian's lip curled in disgust.

"Yeah, well I wasn't exactly expecting guests." Dick deadpanned, giving Damian a pointed look.

"Hmph, I suppose I can look past these...misdemeanours."

"You say that as if you- oh no." It clicked. Damian had that look on his face, the same look he had worn when regarding the Robin uniform for the first time, and again when he'd first seen Dick. He was sizing up his apartment, and that could only mean one thing.

"Well, Grayson, if you could kindly show me to the guest room, I'd like to go to bed now."

Dick's expression turned to one of awkwardness. "Lil'D, as much as I like spending time with you, you can't stay here."

Damian looked confused, "Is it because of your numerous girlfriends you bring back here? Or-"

"Did you and Bruce have an argument?"

Damian's lip twitching was more than enough confirmation for Dick. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I do not want to talk about it. Why must everyone persist in talking about feelings?"

Dick frowned, but knocked a blanket or two from the couch and sat down, patting the space beside him. Damian seemed vaguely annoyed, but slumped down next to Dick nonetheless.

"So you thought you'd come and live with me instead of facing Bruce?"

The newest Robin looked ashamed, but didn't confirm it. "I just thought I could stay here for a while...?"

"Dami, your home is Wayne Manor, besides, I'm not fancy. I don't have a spare room. There's nowhere for you to stay here."

Damian swallowed his pride and managed, "I could sleep here." He patted the couch.

"That bad, huh?" Dick clicked on the TV to provide some background noise. It was too quiet in the apartment. "What did you argue about?"

Damian made a face as if Dick had reopened old wounds. "The Joker."

Dick nodded knowingly. "It's a tender topic for Bruce, since he killed Jay and screwed with Tim."

"He thinks I'm incapable of fighting that bumbling idiot, yet he allows me to battle the likes of Deathstoke and Bane."

Dick's brow drew together in concern. "It must've been more than that. You two argue about villains all the time."

"He said I was worthless." Damian half whispered, half spoke. He sounded as if he could hardly believe it himself.

"He didn't mean it, he really didn't. I know he can be a total tool-bag, and believe me I know, but he means well. He just doesn't want to see you hurt." Dick turned to the TV, distracted by what Vicky Vale was chattering on about.

He'd tuned into Gotham news coverage by accident, but the footage was of the Joker going to town on a bank, and Batman was nowhere to be seen. "Weird. He knows Joker is out there, so why-"

The phone suddenly rung, and Dick leaned over to snatch his mobile from beneath a Chinese takeout box.

"Yeah?"

"Nightwing." Bruce's voice came through, slightly crackly, but concerned. The fact that he'd called Dick by that name meant he was speaking though his communicator and he was currently fighting an enemy.

"I think Robin went after the Joker on his own, and I'm pinned down by Harlequin here. Please, I don't want him being reckless." Small strains of Bruce Wayne came through, even with his Batman voice.

"Robins just fine, Bats. He's with me." Dick handed the phone over to Damian.

"I'm sorry." Were Bruce's first words to his son.

"Me too, I never meant to make you worry." Damian heard Harley scream in the background, realising he must've defeated her.

"No, what I said was...offensive. Look, I'll talk later, just take the night off, okay?" Bruce asked desperately. So he still didn't want Damian going near Joker? Fine.

Damian nodded and put the phone down, only to meet Dick's amused expression.

"What're you grinning at?" He demanded.

"You two fight like an old married couple, it's hilarious."

"That analogy was deeply disturbing." He remarked with a yawn.

He'd already been out on patrol tonight, and although it was hard to see it through his ego, the kid was only ten.

Dick sneakily switched the TV back over to friends, and turned the volume down so that it was a simple lull in the silence. Damian yawned again, and kicked his boots off, putting his feet up on the couch.

"I suppose it's too late to go home now." Damian stated.

"Slumber party?" Dick asked hopefully.

Damian rolled his eyes and tutted, but fell back into the soft cushions and quietly watched Friends, occasionally putting up with Dick's thorough explanations of who's who and what's what.

Eventually, coupled with the exhaustion and the low murmur of the TV, Damian's eyes slid shut. Dick smiled fondly, and made his way to the kitchen, shutting the window Damian had come through, before passing through the living room again. He switched the TV off and murmured, "Night Dami," Before picking up his Nightwing suit from where it had been buried under laundry, and slipping it on, leaving quietly through the window.

As he traversed rooftops in search of any criminal activity, he thought about what Bruce had done. Damian said Bruce'd called him worthless, and apology or not, that didn't sit right with him.

"When I find him, I'm so gonna kill him. That wasn't just overstepping the line. That was performing a triple jump over it, complete with fireworks and a somersault." Dick talked to himself, not bothering with stealth as he landed harshly on a muggers head, effectively knocking him out.

"Oh yeah. He's definitely not getting away with that so easily."

The granny who was previously being mugged before Nightwing swooped in to save her looked up at him curiously. "You already knocked him out, what else is there to do?"

Dick was confused, before realising he'd been talking out loud to himself again. "Uh, yeah sure, sorry miss." He managed to say, before grappling up to the rooftops once more. Maybe the granny was right, maybe Bruce had had enough punishment from thinking Damian was in trouble with Joker. Maybe Dick talking to Bruce would only make things worse.

"Gosh darnit Bruce, why'd you have to inadvertently recruit granny's to pull guilt trips on me?" Dick sighed, looking down at his communicator, his thumb hovering over Batman. He slipped it back into his pocket and continued into the night.

* * *

Review please! And also, if anyone knows where I can get good comics...? (I live in England, I dunno if my profile says that or not)


	7. Taken

Chapter 8 : Taken

Dick wakes in a forest with no recollection of how he got there, but when he finds other victims, including a familiar face, he knows they must be there for a reason. With the enemy hot on their trail, Dick must keep the civilians safe, but at what cost?

* * *

**Dick's POV**

The bullets didn't hit Dick, but they came close, flying past his ears at breakneck speed. He wasn't scared, after all, he had a bullet scar for every year, and a brother who made potshots at him for laughs.

He wasn't scared, but he definitely wasn't laughing, either. No aspect of this situation was funny, not to him anyway. He believed the men chasing him were probably having buckets of fun at his expense.

He'd awoken in a small building with a pounding headache, and not a clue as to how and what he may have gotten himself into this time. The building seemed to have at one point been a hunting cabin, but he couldn't think of any forests near Gotham or Blüdhaven to accommodate such a building. It had been at least a decade since someone had last been in there, told from the obscene amount of dust and grime covering every available surface. Alfred would go crazy in a place like this.

The cabin itself must've been home to an avid hunter, since mounted deer and elk heads decorated every bare inch of wall, and rifles were laid about the small room at random intervals.

Dick didn't care what situation he might've woken up to, he wasn't even touching those guns. Bruce would definitely put aside his morals just to kill him if he took a gun with him.

Turning from the guns, he moved to the door. He tried opening it, but the it stuck fast. There was no lock on the inside, so he figured there must be one preventing him from exiting on the outside. Dick looked for a window, but to no avail. There was no other choice but to bust through the door, which wasn't exactly stealthy and he didn't want to alert his captors.

There had to be _someone _here. There had to be someone behind this whole thing. In any case, with one barge with his shoulder, the door was down, revealing a pitch black forest that surrounded the cabin. Dick decided a torch or something might be in order. After finding a packet of matches in a drawer in the mini kitchen. He wished he was wearing his Nightwing suit, then he could use his night vision filter on his mask, and heck, the GPS built into his suit would've been extremely handy right about now.

Even just a phone, but he'd already searched himself for anything useful. He was in civvies, no mask, no high tech Kevlar, just a pair of jeans, a white shirt and an old jacket. His pockets had been emptied, even currency was missing, and he had no idea what he could possibly do with a couple of dollars in the middle of nowhere.

He pocketed the matches, and also took a hunting knife for good measure, earning a glare from the bear rug splayed on the floor. He promised himself not to use the knife lethally, only as a last ditch means of protection.

He left the cabin, lighting a match that threw out a meager supply of lighting. It was enough to see one step ahead of him, however, which was better than nothing. Dick was thankful that there was no wind tonight, otherwise his only light source would've been put out.

Dick kept walking, getting deeper and deeper into the forest until there was suddenly a light patch ahead of him. He headed towards it, and as he drew closer, he could see several figures standing before what appeared to be the headlights of a car. He crouched behind some dense shrubbery to observe the people. He wasn't stupid enough to just go running into a bunch of possible enemies. Dick spied a woman and three men. Although he couldn't see their faces, he could tell from their silhouettes at least their gender.

He put out his match and crawled closer.

One of the men turned towards the light in such a way that Dick could briefly see his face.

It was...Bruce?

Was he taken too? And what about the people he was with? How did he find them, and who were they?

Bruce suddenly growled, "I know someone's there. Come out."

Dick reluctantly revealed himself, sidestepping sheepishly from behind the bush and slipping the hunting knife in his belt.

"He's going to kill us! Do something, Mr. Wayne!" The woman stammered, grabbing at Bruce's arm.

Dick realised the hysterical woman was talking about him.

"Dick?" Bruce squinted through the darkness, and his eyes widened as Dick drew closer.

The eldest of the two men seemed surprised, "What? You know this kid?"

The younger simply said, "Who the hell is he?"

"Yeah, um, where exactly am I?" He asked, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"I don't know myself, I just woke up here." Bruce said sternly, any surprise in seeing his ward swiftly vanishing from his face, replaced by a neutral look.

"Me too, in this dodgy hunting cabin. Who are these people?"

"Well," He turned to the woman, "This is Wendy, she's a receptionist at Wayne Industries, and these two are Ian and Jensen." He gestured to the men.

Wendy looked at Bruce pointedly, crossing her arms across her chest. She had a business suit on, as if she'd come straight from the office. And she was a red head. Well, it was a definite pro, though Dick realised now was not the time to be hitting on women.

"Oh, this is my son, Richard."

"Son? I never knew about another Wayne." She muttered.

"Well, I'm adopted," Dick said irritably, his nerves were already grated and the pointless small talk was definitely not helping. "Now, how the hell did we get here, and how the hell do we get out? I've been walking for hours now, and it was all just wilderness apart from here..."

"Well, we just escaped from a load of dudes with guns, but yeah, pretty much all trees." The younger man, Jensen, nodded in agreement.

"I woke up in my car about twenty minutes ago, these guys found me." Wendy said, gesturing to the car which was acting as a light source.

"Great! Can you get it running?" Dick asked.

Ian tutted, "Don't you think we've tried that already, idiot? It's out of gas."

Right. Always good to have a smart ass in the group.

Dick rolled his eyes, and dragged Bruce away from the group. "How did_ you_ get taken, of all people?"

Bruce looked lost, "I have no idea. I can't remember anything before waking up here. I've never seen those men who chased us before, either."

Dick frowned. It was all very strange. Most of all, he'd never really seen Bruce look so confused, since he was usually above most situations, looking down on them from his level of understanding while leaving others in the dark.

Dick simply nodded, and looked out over the woods. "There's got to be a way out of here. I don't fancy being shot down by these fabled bad guys. Plus...we need to get these people out of the line of fire. Whoever's taken us could know who we _are, _and taken these guys as hostages."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, "I don't think they know who we are. The men who attacked us treated me like just another civilian."

"But why else would they bring bothof us here together? Unless we all have something else in common?" He suggested.

Bruce nodded, as if taking it into consideration. He made no moves to reply, and Dick assumed he would need some time to brood things over before eventually turning over an answer.

"Well, while you're mulling over that one, I'm gonna look for more people. There might've been more of us taken than these people, and _I'm_ not leaving them for dead." Dick started to walk away when Bruce caught his arm.

"I need to go with you." He stated, leaving little room for argument.

"You 'need to'?" Dick shook his head, "Just because we've woken up here together doesn't mean I'm gonna put up with you. I get it, you feel like you have some kind of obligation to watch over me, but guess what? I'm not nine anymore, I can do this on my own."

Bruce's eyes widened in a rarely seen picture of helplessness and anger. He wanted to argue, but he couldn't risk angering his ward into going off on his own. "An obligation? Dick, I _care _about you!"

Still, his ward persisted, turning his nose up at the notion, "Well, you have a very odd way of showing it."

"You're certainly acting like a nine year old." Bruce remarked offhandedly, "And even if it's an odd way, it's still there."

Ian, Wendy and Jensen had by now taken interest in the conversation, crowding around to watch Bruce Wayne discipline his kid.

Dick seemed to loosen up a little, although he still pushed past Bruce, and made his way into the inky darkness of the forest.

Bruce had some difficulty finding his ward, until he struck a match in the darkness. The trio of civilians followed the billionaire as he trailed Dick on his search for more people.

"So, how comes you're not freaking out now, or something, Mr. Wayne?" Jensen asked, evoking the attention of Dick, who fell back to walk with the group. "I mean, you've been handed a civilised lifestyle on a silver platter, why aren't you complaining about the bugs and calling in a private helicopter or something?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, "They took everything apart from our clothing, how am I supposed to call a helicopter? In any case, that silver platter was stained with blood. There's a lot to me that you don't know about."

_Man, _Dick thought to himself, _understatement of the year- no -century._

"Right." Jensen nodded, "But I mean, you must've had ninja training or something... earlier when we were chased, you knew the best way to go in order for us to evade them. You knew how to use the shadows, and when I saw Bruce Wayne help me up back in that creepy building, I was worried that _I'd_ have to protect _your_ sorry ass."

Bruce let out a weary chuckle. "No ninja training, just initiative."

Dick snorted. The irony of the situation was beautifully hilarious.

"Problem, young man?" Ian asked, and Dick's heart jolted at being suddenly included.

"No, sir."

"Say, Mr. Wayne, how'd you come to adopt... Dick, was it?" Wendy asked kindly, although it was obvious that she was still pretty shaken up about being kidnapped.

Dick nodded in confirmation, and Bruce gave a small smile. Dick figured it was the most emotions he'd shown in quite some time.

"Well, I guess I just didn't want him to be lonely like I was in my childhood years. I wanted him to have people around to help him."

Dick rolled his eyes. When it came to explaining his adoption, Bruce was like a broken record.

The conversation was interrupted by yells behind them. Dick couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but from the looks on the civvie trio's faces, they were the men that had attacked them earlier.

"Run!" Bruce yelled, making sure everyone was ahead of him, though Dick knew full well his father could outrun every one of them.

The bullets didn't hit Dick, but they came close, flying past his ears at breakneck speed.

He wasn't scared, after all, he had a bullet scar for every year, and a brother who made potshots at him for laughs.

He wasn't scared because he knew the bullets wouldn't hit him, he had to keep everyone else safe, so there was no time to worry about his own safety.

He wasn't scared when a bullet sliced through his side leaving an aching pain like a well placed punch to the gut. Or when the blood came streaming out, soaking his clean white shirt. Or when he fell to his knees several hundred meters later, weak from blood loss.

But he was terrified when Bruce didn't notice that somewhere in his inky black vicinity, his ward had been shot and fallen without his knowledge.

* * *

**Please review! (This is a two to three part thingy) **


End file.
